


Bake Sale

by dee_thehoneybee



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, Kid Fic, Tumblr Prompt, baking cookies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23136658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dee_thehoneybee/pseuds/dee_thehoneybee
Summary: “Do not have me turn around to see you eating my cookie batter,” she warned. Her eyes traveled to the ceiling in a God-help-me sort of way. But the telltale sound of laughter convinced her it was too late.She turned on her heels to see Malcolm duck behind the kitchen island, no doubt to join his sister in hiding. Ainsley, loudly shushed him from the floor, but there wasn’t any reason to. Malcolm hadn’t spoken in weeks.
Kudos: 32





	Bake Sale

**Author's Note:**

> requested by anonymous: “Do not have me turn around see you eating my cookie batter” Gil to the team or Jessica to her kids? 🍪

It was a rare occasion for Jessica Whitly to bake, even rarer after her husband was arrested. Every day was a struggle between crude accusations that implicated her in the murders and trying to send her children to school. Her sanity stretched a thin line and she had little time for tasks the household staff was willing to do. They were better bakers anyway, she reasoned.

But then came the fundraisers at her children’s school. Rather than contribute momentarily, parents were encouraged to participate in the annual bake sale. It was arbitrary really. Jessica knew she could contribute far more by writing a check than she could whisking eggs. The same could be said of all the other upper-class, old money New Yorkers that sent their children to that school. 

Maybe there was a lesson for the children to learn about hard work and entrepreneurism–Jessica wasn’t sure. But she knew she hated the snide looks and comments from the other mothers. The same ones who protested her ability to parent two children given to her by a serial killer father. They wrongly assumed she couldn’t handle things on her own. But she was a strong, intelligent woman, who would do anything for her kids.

Even bake.

While the other parents were commissioning gourmet cupcakes from their personal chefs and paying through the nose for bakery craftsmanship, Jessica was going to prove her worth my making cookies on her own, without any help.

She protested any help from her staff, though they adamantly offered. Her refusal for help is what landed her in the kitchen at 7:00 pm, with ingredients strewn about the kitchen and burnt cookies in the oven.

By her second attempt, the children decided they would help, in the least helpful way.

“Do not have me turn around to see you eating my cookie batter,” she warned. Her eyes traveled to the ceiling in a God-help-me sort of way. But the telltale sound of laughter convinced her it was too late.

She turned on her heels to see Malcolm duck behind the kitchen island, no doubt to join his sister in hiding. Ainsley, loudly shushed him from the floor, but there wasn’t any reason to. Malcolm hadn’t spoken in weeks. 

She rounded the corner.

Malcolm and Ainsley were crouched on the floor with their backs pressed against the counter. They each had a spoonful of cookie dough in their hands from the bowl up to. Jessica quickly realized Ainsley wouldn’t be tall enough to reach the bowl. Malcolm must have been stealing cookie dough for the both of them.

“And just what do you both think you’re doing?’

“We wanted to see what they tasted like!” Ainsley informed her mother. Jessica looked at Malcolm, who quietly nodded his agreement.

“Darling,” she tried carefully, “you’ve had cookies before. Mommy needs these for the bake sale.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never tried ones you’ve made before.” That much was true. “Besides, we can help you!”

Jessica sighed and motioned for her children to stand up. She wasn’t going to be angry for them wanting to help. Picking Ainsley up, she sat her at the breakfast bar and rummaged around the drawers for an extra whisk.

“Here,” she presented the whisk to Malcolm, “you two can help me mix these ingredients. Do you think you can do that?”

Malcolm nodded excitedly and Jessica smiled at his enthusiasm. He clamored up the stool next to Ainsley’s and began showing her how to stir.

With her two children occupied, Jessica resumed putting the cookie dough on baking sheets. Every so often, her gaze would drift back to Malcolm and Ainsley. They worked in unison, a smile on both their faces. Ainsley excitedly told Malcolm about her classmates and Malcolm hung on every word. Things had been so hectic, and Malcolm had been so quiet. She worried when things would ever return to normal. But in little moments like these, she felt sure they would be alright.


End file.
